You're Pathetic When You're Sick
by TheGoddamnRiddler
Summary: Riddler catches a cold and feels miserable, not just because he's sick, but also because Harvey has been taken back to Arkham. Echo and Query have to take care of him. I own nothing. Please don't sue me, I can't afford it. Rated T just in case stuff gets heavier?
1. Chapter 1

"I'm too smart to get sick." Riddler said to himself grumpily. He knew perfectly well that his logic was faulty, and that intelligence and immune systems were not connected, but he thought it nonetheless. He coughed a few times in rapid succession, forcing him to uncurl from his blankets and sit up. He felt like his sinuses were going to pop from the pressure. Edward groaned and rolled over into the covers again. Most people didn't fancy getting sick, but Edward Nigma particularly loathed it. He was all for lying in bed all day, which he had done on several occasions when he was thinking too much to be bothered with such trifling things as lunch, but when he was sick it was hard to think. His felt stuffed with cotton instead of ideas.

There was a soft tapping at the bedroom door before it opened, spreading the yellowish hallway light into Edward's darkened bedroom. "How are you feeling, Boss?" he heard Query ask. He moaned non-committedly in response. This prompted an entertained laugh from Query. Riddler actually put forth the effort to roll over so she could see his irritated glare. It looked like he was about to sneeze, and Query laughed again. In the yellowish light, Edward's skin looked waxy. There were dark circles under his eyes, his nose was red, and his lips were chapped.

His voice was hoarse and gravelly when he spoke. "I feel dead." He stated bluntly. "My throat is swollen, my chest aches from persistent coughing-" as if to prove his point, he was wracked by a throat and chest searing coughing bout that lasted for several seconds. He sniffed a few times, composing himself, and the continued. "My nose has found a way to be stuffed up and runny at the same time, my sinuses are fit to burst, my head hurts, and I'm hungry." Edward listed, each new complaint whinier than the previous one. He was pouting in a way that may have been endearing if there weren't snot dripping from his nose.

Query was silent as he listed his ails, but then grinned when he was finished and barked a laugh. Riddler again shot her a glare, but it looked pathetic. "You really are sick, huh, Boss?" she teased. Edward opened his mouth to make a sarcastic reply, but couldn't due to a coughing spasm. "I'll get you something to eat." Query assured him. "Just try to get some sleep, okay?" The light humor that had been in her voice was replaced with a near maternal tenderness. On that note, she turned and went back into the hall. The door closed, leaving Edward in darkness.

After she was gone, he wriggled up to a sitting position with his head against the headboard and his pillow at the small of his back. He looked around the shadowy room, which was lit only by the red digital clock and what little light was managing to creep around the edges of the blackout curtains, and his gaze landed on Harvey's untouched side of the bed. He swallowed, feeling like he was attempting to swallow a razor blade, and look at the ceiling instead.

It had been a month since Batman and company had dragged Harvey back to Arkham. To Edward, it felt much longer than that, and he was sure that it felt even longer for Harvey. Edward frowned. Now he'd done it. He'd opened this emotional can of worms when he was too sick to do anything about it other than feel miserable. Edward thought of how Harvey would hold him and stroke his hair whenever he was sick. Of course, this usually meant that Two-Face got sick as well, which was really unromantic, but Harvey never complained about it. After all, it gave the two an excuse to stay curled up with each other in bed all day. Thinking of this, Edward grabbed Harvey's pillow. He pressed it to his face, longing in vain for Harvey's scent. His nose was too stuffed to smell anything. With a soft noise between a moan and a growl, Edward curled on to his side, holding the pillow like a child might hold a teddy bear.

He must have dozed off, because he awoke to Echo gently shaking his shoulder. Edward slowly sat up, continuing to hold Two-Face's pillow. On the bedside table, he noticed a steaming bowl of tomato soup, a plate with a halved grilled cheese sandwich on it, and a tall glass of orange juice. "Thank you, Echo." He said, setting Harvey's pillow delicately back on his partner's side of the bed.

"You really are pathetic when you're sick, you know." Echo pointed out. She always had been blunter than Deidre. From her pocket, she took a couple of ibuprofen tablets and a small bottle of NyQuil. She set them on the bedside table, next to the orange juice.

"I've been told." Edward grumbled, reaching for half of the sandwich. He started to nibble at it halfheartedly.

Echo stood there thoughtfully for a moment. "He'll come back. He always does. You'll be okay." She said reassuringly, glancing at Two-Face's side of the bed.

Edward chewed more slowly and then swallowed. He grimaced at the unpleasant friction. "Thank you, Echo." He said sincerely. "I know he will." Echo smiled, nodded, and then left the room. After the door was shut, Edward flipped on the bedside lamp and finished his dinner, including the juice and the medicine. Following his meal, Edward left the light on and curled up with Harvey's pillow as before.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, he felt both better and worse. He'd woken himself up several times in the night with coughing, but slept soundly otherwise. His head felt less stuffy and his nose was no longer running, though it was still stopped up. That was probably just the drugs. He was likely still in the same state he was in the previous day.

With something like revulsion, Edward decided that the concept of being sick was more awful than being sick. His body was literally being invaded by an army of microscopic creatures that had the intention to kill or injure him. He was essentially powerless to aid his body in the war against these enemies he was being attacked by. No one hated feeling helpless more than Edward Nigma. He felt dirty and suddenly decided he needed a shower. He sat up. Aches, pain, and the bizarre sensation of being cold while sweating accompanied him as he stood, swaying and holding onto the bedpost for support. When he got his balance, he walked out into the hallway and towards the bathroom.

Echo and Query both had makeups and perfumes on the sink's counter, but he had long been used to that. He turned the shower on and waited for the water to get warm before peeling off his sweaty pajama pants and stepping under the water. The heat and rhythmic drumming of the water on skin felt so nice that he did nothing but stand under the stream for ten minutes. Aware he was wasting water, he eventually washed himself. Grudgingly, he flipped the water off and stepped out, dripping, on to the bathmat. He shook some of the water off before fixing a towel about his waist.

With hair and skin still shiny and dripping with water, Edward made his way towards the kitchen. Query had apparently fallen asleep with the television on last night. He could hear morning talk shows playing at low volume and Query's snores at a much higher decibel. Careful not to wake her, Edward tried to walk lightly past her. His posture was clearly that of someone who isn't feeling well; slouching and slow. Once in the kitchen Edward put the kettle on for tea. While it was boiling, he rummaged not-so-quietly through the cabinets and found more cold medicine. Confident that the great Edward Nigma would not be killed by something as simple as an overdose of cough syrup, he took more than he was supposed to.

Riddler, Echo, Query, Two-Face, and occasionally someone else (usually Scarecrow or Harley Quinn on the run from Joker) lived together in a two bedroom, one bathroom, kitchen/dining area, living area apartment. It wasn't the worst apartment ever, but it wasn't exactly a five star mansion either. It usually had working utilities, the décor wasn't as bad as it once was (thanks largely in part to Harley and Ivy coming over), and it had enough room for the four of them to not constantly be in each other's hair. The furniture was sparse, but good quality.

Depending on how you looked at it, its location was either prime real estate or the worst possible location. The Narrows were the shady downtown Gotham areas, a few blocks long by a few blocks wide, that the GCPD had essentially given up on. Few, if any, patrol cars were ever in the area, and very few 911 calls were made or responded to. This made it the ideal hiding place for many escaped Blackgate and Arkham residents. Many a famous criminal had a hideout and/or home here. The landlords knew the more wealthy residents, such as Edward, would pay good money for privacy anonymity, and most of the regular civilians knew better than to call in a sighting of Killer Croc or Mister Freeze.

Riddler had managed to nearly fall asleep leaning against the refrigerator waiting for his water to boil. He would have, except Echo jerked to door open, sending Edward stumbling away. He frowned at her, but knew better than to piss her off, especially when she had just woken up. Echo's short black hair was sticking up in bedhead fashion and she was pulsating 'do not mess with me' vibes. She never spoke before breakfast, just glowered and grumbled. Edward's placed a tea bag into his mug and poured the hot water over it. He brought it over to the small table and set it down, allowing it to steep and cool. Echo microwaved a frozen breakfast sandwich and also brought it over to the table. The pair of them blinked sleepily and occasionally took bites/sips of their breakfast.

When their silent breakfast was over, Echo hoarsely spoke. "Feeling better today?" she asked. She didn't sound like she really cared, but Edward believed that was just because she was tired.

"Well, cold medicine is sustaining my life at the moment and making existing tolerable, but if that were taken away, no, I don't suppose I'm doing much better than yesterday." Edward replied. He looked at the dregs of his tea and decided against having another cup. Echo shrugged and yawned. Riddler coughed a few times and groaned. "Okay, I'm going back to bed." He rasped. He left his cup on the table and went back to his room, leaving Echo as she began to make a pot of coffee.

Riddler got back to his room and took off his towel. He used it to roughly dry his hair to the point of not actively dripping. He then folded the towel dropped it on the floor. He was sick enough to be messy, but well enough to make the mess somewhat organized. He crawled under the covers and closed his eyes.

It must have been past noon when he woke up, because Query rarely got up before noon unless it was required. He awoke to Query cursing loudly and slipping. "Who poured water all over the floor?" she demanded to know, just as loudly as the curse. Echo must have told her because he heard rapid footsteps approaching his door. Edward quickly rolled on his side, back to the door, and pretended to be deeply asleep. The annoyed woman outside knocked twice before coming in. "Hey, Boss, why didn't you clean up the puddle you left all over the floor?" Edward didn't respond. There was a pause. "Okay, I know you're faking it, you're breathing too fast." Edward remained silent. "Yeah, okay." She rolled her eyes. In a couple large steps, she made it over to the bed and tugged to covers off of the 'sleeping' Edward.

He breathed in sharply to yell at her, but coughed profoundly instead. "Oh, jeez, Boss. Try sleeping with pants on next time." She laughed, tossing the blankets back over him, and turning to leave the room. Edward might have blushed, had he and girls not been working together for years. At some point in any long term platonic relationship, someone would definitely see the other naked. Besides, he wasn't shy and neither were the girls. He angrily got out of bed and grabbed a pair of boxers to put on and followed her out of the room.

"I shouldn't have to clean things, I'm sick, remember?" he called after her. He paused to think on what he had just said. Was he five years old? And was he seriously sick enough to not want to be a control freak?

Echo snorted. "What are you, five?" she teased him. Edward glared at her when she came into his line of sight. Yes, Echo could have toweled up the water herself, but it wasn't her mess, and she kind of wanted to see what would happen later on. Honestly, she had expected nothing to happen, for the water to dissipate before anyone had a chance the step in it. This scenario was a lot better, though.

When he went into the kitchen, his face was assaulted by a dish towel. Query snickered as Edward took it off his face, dropped it on the floor, and wiped up the water with his foot. He didn't feel like bending over. "There, happy?" he asked, seriously irked, when he was done. Query nodded with a grin on her face. "Then I'm going back to bed." He grumbled. He started out of the kitchen, but his way was blocked by Echo.

"No way, Boss, we've got a problem." Echo stated. Edward groaned and went into the living room instead. He flopped on the overstuffed couch and folded his arms. Echo sat on the chair to the side of the couch and Query sat on the couch with Edward. When everyone was situated, Echo spoke. "Alright, so it's been a little over a month since 'Face got taken back, right?" Edward nodded, ignoring the fact that Harvey's name felt like a pinch. "Right, so Dee and I were thinking that we could bust in and bust him out. Since you're sick, you don't have to come, but since you're sick, seeing him will make you feel better, right?"

"That's true, but not a good idea." Edward narrowed his eyes. "I don't think you ladies have ever truly realized what a fortress Arkham Asylum really is. Sure, you two have helped me out a few times, but Harvey is going to be in maximum security, potentially in solitary confinement." He paused to swallow uncomfortably. "We can't do this while I'm sick, it'll simply have to wait." He said, despite kind of wanting the plan to go through anyway.

Query spoke up. "But you always have such good directions and instructions, surely you can guide us through the process from here?" She tried to appeal to his ego. It almost always worked. She hid a smile as Edward sighed. He seemed about to cave.

"That might work, but you two would have to follow my every instruction to the letter. I don't want to have to come rescue the two of you as well." Query and Echo nodded excitedly. "And if something goes wrong, I won't be there to help." They nodded again, more solemnly. Edward sighed again. "Okay, fine, girls. I want him back, too." Now all Edward had to do was make some instructions. Arkham Asylum was only a massive super-max facility. What could possibly go wrong?


	3. Unrelated Interlude Chapter 3

**AN: This chapter is completely skip-able, self-contained, and unrelated to the overall story. I didn't mean to write this chapter, it just kind of happened, so I decided to keep it anyway.**

Edward was sitting in the living room with all the lights off except for the glow of the television. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape and his knees were drawn up to his chest. His short red hair was spiked from lack of combing. Normally, sitting around like this looking the way he did would be enough to drive Riddler crazy. However, he was too sick to really care. He caught a sneeze in a tissue and groaned. It was half-past two in the morning, but he couldn't seem to get to sleep. So, instead, he was watching a documentary on… some kind of car manufacturing robot? He wasn't sure. He wasn't actually paying much attention to it. He could pretend that he was brainstorming ways to get back into Arkham, but both the girls were in bed, so he didn't have to do that. In all honestly, he was kind of zoning out, not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. He was in the living room because he thought a change of scenery might help him sleep better. So far, it wasn't looking hopeful.

He put his feet on the floor and sat up better. He'd just come up with an idea. He might have thought of it solely because he didn't have any better ideas for falling asleep. Alcohol usually aided in the whole passing out thing. All he needed to do was have a glass of wine or a beer and it should help. Unfortunately, he knew that there was no alcohol in the apartment. He stood with an exaggerated motion and went to check anyway, hoping, for once, that he was wrong about something. After looking in every nook and cranny of every drawer and cabinet, he was satisfied that there wasn't a drop in the house. Damn. Was the Iceberg Lounge open this late on a Wednesday night? He didn't think so. Plus, it was all the way across town, and he didn't feel like going that far, even if he did get a discount. The liquor store was surely closed, and the shady 24-Hour QwikMart down the street was one of the most frequently robbed and held up places in Gotham. He tried to focus on his mental map of the city. There was a little bar that he was fairly sure was open 24 hours only a few blocks away. It probably wasn't too crowded at three AM, which meant there would be less people to bribe into silence. That was always a plus.

With his mind made up on that front, he then had to decide something arguably much more important. What was he going to wear? He wanted to dress nicely in his standard emerald green and royal purple suit and tie, but honestly, that required so much effort. The thought of going outside in his current dress, black sweatpants and a grey tank top, was almost physically repulsive. He had appearance to keep up, after all. No one knew he felt as bad as he did, and no one needed to know. Although, he thought, if he didn't dress up, he probably wouldn't be recognized. He wouldn't have to worry about his reputation if no one knew it was him. So, while the idea of it made him feel even sicker, he eventually decided to go dressed as he was. Well, in the same general outfit, but clean. And he combed his hair. And brushed his teeth. Basically, by the time he was ready to walk out the door, he was in blue jeans, a blue-grey t-shirt and an Arkham Asylum logo baseball cap, for just a touch of sarcasm.

He made a quick note for Echo and Query in case they woke up while he was missing and then headed out the door. The hallway was deserted, but he could hear many signs of people behind closed doors. There was a television playing infomercials in one room and a couple arguing in another one. He went down one floor to the ground floor and headed out the door. About ten minutes of walking brought him within eyesight of the bar. The sign was, thankfully, still on. He walked in, hands in pockets and head down, and took a seat at the bar. He glanced around the darkened, ill-decorated room and saw one man asleep in the farthest booth, a woman a few seats down from him at the bar and a handful of people scattered around a pool table. The woman was sitting with her back to the bar, watching the pool game.

The bartender walked over to him and asked him what he wanted. He smelled like he drank as much alcohol as he poured. Riddler wrinkled his nose, but tried to keep his face down. "Whatever Pinot Noir you have will be fine, thank you." He said. A moment later, the man returned with a glass of red wine. Riddler nodded and took it up. He took a sip and immediately knew it was cheap. It would have to do, however. He continued to sip at while he occasionally glanced around the room. As long as no one suspected who he was, he wouldn't have to pay anyone to keep quiet. He could try to rely on the drunkenness of the patrons, but that wouldn't protect him if, God forbid, GCPD SWAT beat his door down.

He tried to drink more wine, but realized it was already empty. He chastised himself for not paying attention when he was drinking. After all, he didn't need to end up an alcoholic. One or two more glasses and he would head home. He waved his glass at the bartender, who meandered over annoyingly slowly and sloppily refilled his glass. As a drop of wine landed on his wrist, Edward could feel his anger swell rapidly. At least he hadn't been wearing one of his nicer suits. He flicked it off and downed the wine in one go. He heard the woman sitting not far from him make an amused sound. He looked over and realized that she had moved closer to him. Great. Edward raised a $20 bill, shook it, and then placed it on the bar.

As he was standing to leave, the man behind the bar uttered the most obnoxious inquiry Riddler had heard in weeks: "Hey, ain't you that Joker guy?" This meant several things at once. The man recognized him. Well, sort of. Secondly, it meant that he would either have to agree to being The Joker or reveal himself to be The Riddler. Revealing himself as Joker was undesirable because the thought repulsed him, not to mention the fact that Joker was, generally speaking, more sought after than himself. If he claimed to be Joker, someone would surely follow him home and he would wake up in handcuffs. If he claimed to be Riddler, he would have to bribe everyone in the bar to keep quiet and trust in their greed to protect him.

Furiously, Edward reached into his wallet and brought out two more twenties. "No, sir, you are mistaken." That was ambiguous enough, he figured, and combined with everyone's intoxication, it should pave over the incident. "This is to buy a round for everyone in the house." He gestured with the forty dollars before setting it on the bar. The barkeep suspiciously raised his eyebrows, but poured everyone a drink anyway. Edward hurriedly left the establishment and went around the corner. There he waited for a few minutes, to make sure no one came out of the bar after him. When he was satisfied, he walked back to his apartment. The trip hadn't succeeded in making him sleepy, just annoyed, vaguely tipsy and short $60.

The next morning, Edward woke up with a searing headache. Even the brightness of his alarm clock was too bright for him. He pulled the blankets over his head and groaned. He didn't even remember going to bed. He'd only had two glasses of wine, he didn't expect this kind of hangover. Edward glanced at the alarm clock with squinted eyes. It read 4:30. He sat up suddenly. 4:30? In the afternoon? Feeling nauseous and foggy, he quickly opened the door and went to find Echo and Query. They were sitting in the living room playing a first person shooter game.

"Oh, he's up, about time." Echo said angrily. Riddler frowned and brought his hand to his forehead. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Echo. "No, you shut up." She ordered, sparing glances at him without pausing the game. "Wasn't there a 'no alcohol stored in the house' rule put in place by you?" Riddler narrowed his eyes, clearly confused. Echo rolled her eyes. "Lightweight, can't even hold your alcohol."

Riddler winced as he spoke. "I didn't have any alcohol here, I only had two glasses of wine at the bar." He explained. He realized that his mouth tasted terrible and he made a face. "Why didn't you guys get me up earlier? Or at least check in on me?" he asked while running his fingers through his hair.

Query didn't look up from the game as she responded to him. "Oh, we did, you were totally unconscious until like 5 minutes ago." Riddler raised his eyebrows. Echo yelped when her character was shot and she had to respawn. Both of the girls proceeded to ignore Edward's presence.

"Okay, whatever." He grumbled and went towards the kitchen. He wanted to get a bottle of water and wash whatever this nasty taste was out of his mouth. He found a bottle in the fridge, gulped it down, and went to the trash can to throw it out. When he opened the lid, the top layer of trash was beer cans. He guessed there must have been a dozen of them. He sighed. Okay. "I don't even like beer." He called over his shoulder to the girls in the other room.

"You must have liked it last night, because you were passed out on the couch with several cans next to you when I got up this morning." Query responded sassily. "Yeah, Echo and I carried you to bed and you've been asleep this whole time."

Riddler tried to piece together his night logically. After he got home from the bar, which was the last thing he remembered, he must have gone to the QwikMart and gotten a case of beer. Why beer? He didn't like beer. Maybe they didn't have any wine? Then he brought it into the apartment and drank some unknown amount of the (12 pack?) beer. There were no left overs in the fridge, so one of the girls must have thrown out the excess, provided there was any. Which brought him to where he was now, hungover and sick. He really didn't think last night through. "I'm going back to bed, girls," he announced, "Please make sure I get up in the morning." He took a couple aspirin, went back to this room, and fell asleep again.


End file.
